My Best Friend in Death
by Jesuslovesmarina
Summary: Major season 1 spoilers-Oliver realizes all the crap Tommy went through before his death and realizes he can't make this one right.


**Started watching Arrow because John Barrowman. BAD idea…I cannot believe what they did to Tommy! *sobs* I thought I would hate him at first and he turned out to be my favorite character…oh well. Enjoy the fruits of my angst, lol**

…

My Best Friend in Death

Oliver made a mistake when he came between Tommy and Laurel, but that's not what he feels bad about. He feels bad because he's the kind of man who would do it again.

All because _Laurel._

It didn't matter anymore if they had chemistry; if they were good for one another or a flood of poison in one another's blood. It no longer mattered if the Vigilante coming to Laurel's aid hurt the others who loved him in life. It didn't even matter if it meant betraying his best friend and taking Laurel's choice of man away from her, dredging up long-forgotten attractions because Oliver Queen, or maybe just the man in the hood, _needed_ her.

But when it came down to it, Laurel had Tommy to save her.

It was _Tommy_ who needed the saving.

And Oliver, dammit, still needed Laurel.

He was sitting—well, posed upside down on his hands with his legs crossed in the air above him, in the same yoga position Shado had taught him. Not really sitting, anyway—when the thought came to him that it was _awfully_ convenient for Tommy to die right when Oliver was starting to figure out he'd never really be rid of the Laurel—whatever it was—in his veins.

The upside-down position didn't help, but Oliver was not surprised when he tasted acid at the back of his throat. He tumbled awkwardly onto his head, rolling out onto the floor before dashing into the bathroom, heaving and retching shakily into the toilet several times.

"Oh, God," he finally sank to his knees, covering his eyes with one hand as he leaned against the shiny cabinets.

He really hadn't changed at all. He was as much of a playboy as he'd ever been—only this time, it was worse. He was a damaged playboy. He knew how to manipulate people so well he hadn't even realized it himself—not until it was too late to apologize, let alone to make things _right._

Make things right—isn't that what his Dad said? Except poor Tommy—Tommy, who lost his mother when he was eight. Tommy whose Dad was a psychopath and a remorseless terrorist; Tommy, who had only _discovered_ said terroristic tendencies when he had _finally_ begun to heal a relationship with said dad after twenty years of estrangement. Tommy who had decided, all on his own and without a five-year torturous purgatory to force him along, to grow up and make a move on the woman of his dreams, live with barely a complaint after having that addictive trust fund removed cold-turkey, and attempt to run the nightclub all on his own despite knowing Oliver couldn't care less about the actual business dealings.

No, things had not gone well for Tommy, Oliver had to admit.

But the last straw, surely, would have been to find his best friend and ex-girlfriend having sex— _not_ just kissing, mind you—he _knew_ Tommy had known; after said best friend and ex-girlfriend had both encouraged him to come back and restore the relationship.

Oliver wanted to punch himself.

Knowing Tommy had probably felt the same way not too long ago didn't help the feeling much.

Oliver needed Laurel, and Laurel was now _there._ Almost in such a way that would make it criminal not to take advantage of that, really.

Oliver wearily got to his feet, gazing at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked into his own eyes and for a second, he almost felt like Tommy was standing there, just over his shoulder. Not accusing, not angry; just Tommy.

Oliver looked at him, attempting to meet his gaze but finding he couldn't, because Tommy was looking at him but refusing to meet _his._ He'd never realized before that Tommy looked sad. Had Tommy always been sad?

He blinked, and the apparition was gone, but Oliver leaned over the sink and sighed heavily.

" _You are my best friend in life…"_

Oliver had once teased him about that line, about how it never finished with the 'and death' he was expecting.

He actually growled at himself in the mirror. He would NOT let Tommy be his best friend in death—he would NEVER use his best friend to his advantage, not EVER again.

Which meant that Laurel—Laurel would have to go. At least for now.

Tommy was Oliver's best friend in life.

And Oliver—he was Tommy's best friend, too. If only in death.


End file.
